"silhoutte" poems
Everytime I close my eyes,
Sunday afternoon comes to mind.
Sometimes when I close my eyes,
there is only white noises.
The Sunday in my head is always sunny;
rarely it rains.
When it rains on Sunday,
I am reminded of school uniform;
sweaty and sticky,
but it is still Sunday.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I can smell Sunday.
The smell of Sunday in my head—
consists of jasmine, pandan, and milk.
The Sunday in my head rarely rains.
When it rains, it smells like **** and soil.
The sunny side of my Sunday is not always bright—
and my wet Sunday is not always gloomy.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see myself tracing Sunday.
I run my fingers through the odds of—
possibilities and the ambience of the present.
You see, I cannot imagine anyone but myself—
in my Sunday.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see no one.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see silhoutte of myself.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see myself leaving trails.
Everytime I close my eyes,
It was all in my head all along.
Blessed with the odds,
my Sunday goes by very slowly;
so slow sometimes I caught myself in turbulence.
From violent shower to the still lake,
I avoid meeting myself on the foreground.
If I ever crossed path in the middle,
I would be non-existent;
none of this would matter,
and there will never be my Sunday.
Sarah Radzi
In Between Four Walls,
19.08.2018,
01:56
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 6:12 AM UTC
I met Virginia in a wave of sleet.
On Decatur, a hundred winters ago,
with a black iris, black hair in ponytail,
with a tongue like a nightcrawling widow,
Virginia whispered tornados behind the backs of the
grey-suited saxophone players, going blue in the cheeks,
under their blackface.
Under a flimsy sheet of moon sliver sky and a dim streetlight,
Virginia kicked a soda can along the cracking concrete.
With each bar we passed, I hollered, "Thank God we're alive!"
and danced a shapeless jig.
Near Williamson cemetery, Virginia's white knuckles laced into mine.
"The amount of time we have cheapens whatever purpose we have,"
Virginia hissed.
I caressed her serpentine neck.
A lone car's high beams
made Virginia's silhoutte tower above the cemetery gates,
made Virginia's black irises madden to poisonous yellow.
She loosened my grey necktie.
I let down her hair.
A sea of collected strands fell
like a closing curtain.
The distant saxophone ascended to heaven,
leaving me below,
leaving me below,
leaving me to spend the night bellowing for above.
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 4:35 AM UTC
I'd like to trace your fault lines
Further than the bruises that grace under your eyes
And to trace the epicenter to our star signs
Take my hand, let's run away, 'cos baby you were born to fly
And when you choke back the words you don't wanna admit
All I can think is maybe this is finally my time
To take my chances and ease my palms around your heart
And let it rest easy with an improvised lullaby
My timing is flawed, I have no sense of time
My words are so useless when distance cuts our ties
And when I see how the autumn moon is held by the sky
I can't help but hope that someday that's you and I
Should I move forward or hang back and play it cool?
And watch to see if your silhoutte comes over the horizon
Either way, I'm gonna play the fool
Either way, you've already won
So take my hand, let's run away, 'cos baby you were born to fly
I've never had wings, but I'll try to keep up if you don't mind
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 12:52 PM UTC
Night sky black and bursting
With stars above our encampment
Then clouds covered moon encircling
Snow began to fall on desert enchantment
Wind of sand and snow surprise did blow
Blinding us to danger's imminent engagmeent
Now when I sleep I dream of gunfire
in the dark and sound of booted feet
The smell of sweat and burned gunpowder
In my dream I raise my rifle at a silhoutte
Fire and see him clutch the rose that burst
The wound that doomed him to final rest
And I to never rest forever cursed
With dream of friendly fire
r. 1 Nov 2013
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
...She walked down a long road
rain clouds and grays
concealed the stars
It was dark and cold
Dark
and cold as
her stare
She never went this far before but
the scent of the trail was
too much to resist
She wanted more than
daylight til she was
blinded...
Green are the trees no more
and their silhoutte
embraced the ground
She thought blood is red
under the moonlight but
it was black as uncertainties
and it tasted madness
If only
she could get back
If only she could...
then perhaps
she will see
the sunrise
tomorrow...
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 8:23 AM UTC
...Black clouds
overcast
silhoutte of the Sun
there will be no
meadows to sing
no flowers bloom, no
butterflies to strap its wings
A bullet ride to
insanity
and it gets worse
in the morning
Squeeze the bottle
there may be a few drops
left
It's a shame...
we only have one road to
bore us
Though
the field is more appealing
and perhaps we
have a chance to wish for
the moonlight not to
fade...
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
Even the flower bloom and withers
It can never be in the same place,
Some of the memories can never be replaced
Some of the stories can never be repeated,
The feat may be the same, but always at a different place,
If the world did not move, and the time stopped,
We'll never meet, never grow and never learn,
Since the real determination of value is time,
Different springs, different summers,
But still the same memories,
The day we've spent together is long gone,
Since the day we had in the past,
Is already more than enough for me,
Reminiscing it as the value keeps growing,
Aging like a fine wine,
Remain fresh in my vivid memories,
How could I forget,
The most precious pieces of my life?
Just like a silhouette on sunny days.
Jun 6, 2022
Jun 6, 2022 at 11:16 PM UTC
Turn me into a metaphor
Any metaphor, I don't care which one
Either I'm the raging storm or the silhoutte against the moon
I'm the sunshine on your wet hair or the rain drowing you
I don't ask for your love
Just make me into a literary device
Pen me on paper
That is the only way I'll feel alive
When your words caress my presence even if your hands don't
When I will be immortalized in your works
I don't care if you stay with me for eternity or let me go
I want you to remember me and construct me into prose
Which maybe people will recall
And feel something, anything at all
I want you to use me to create that warmth
That sensation that the lonely strive for
So break my heart
Use my pieces to scratch out words
Use my blood to ink them into sheets
I don't care what you do to me
Just turn me into a ******* metaphor
And store me in your poetry
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
it's been some time coming
centuries passed
since i was able to
see you last
cruel fate showing
its shadow cast
how our time ended
much too fast
your silhoutte
your dainty steps
how i could hear you
when you slept
your short hair
and chocolate skin
the enchanting way
your face brightened
unconditional
unforgettable
love that was lost
unrelievable
green eyes searing
into my skin
you taught me how to love again
now long gone
my dearest friend
you've taught me how to miss again
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 1:24 PM UTC
Let's make love with the stars,
lay **** on sandy shorelines of
a midnight escape.
Let's be young again, care about nothing.
Dance around the fire of the dreams we burned
of the dreams we shared
of the dreams we believed
of the life we dreamt of.
Sing the night away, burn the pain and the regret
leave the worry at the door and turn towards our silhoutte.
Let's be young again,
build castles from the ashes of those dreams
tell the world we won't care if it ceases to exists
tell ourselves we'll remain constant in the debris
of the collapsing world around us.
Take another gulp of life
and hold the weight of the world inside this
smoke filled lungs.
Let's be us,
just this once more;
Young and breathless
but never hopeless.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 2:54 AM UTC
I marked you as a fool
When you fell onto the sand bursting
With an unreal sense of euphoria
When you could still see the silhoutte of your name
After the tide collapsed into itself
It left you smitten with the idea
That the wax that sticks you all together
Doesn't wither with the wick
So I collapsed into myself
By candlelight and canned heat
Drew up and insubstantial
You treasure the primordial gold
I melt it to fit my posture
I am the sound of a dying constellation
A sound that no one will ever hear
And I marked you as a fool
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 5:47 PM UTC
I am walking among the silhouette of the trees.
Stranded and lost in the frozen breeze.
I leave no footprints on the wet earth beneath my feet.
My days are nothing but cold sleet.
I still have real feelings though lost.
My spirit fills the circle of cold frost.
I wander my own land in a pursuit of peace.
Will my weary days ever cease?
I miss my old me.
I was full of life and passions....
Now i don't even know name.
The world still looks the same.
Yet remote and far away.
Nothing good left to say.
For me night has not yet come to pass
Beneath the stars that mass
To shine on me and my weary heart.
I took my path to part.
I see nothing but the dark silhoutte of the trees.
I hear nothing but the sound of the falling leaves.
I smell nothing but the scent of the wet earth beneath.
I feel nothing but emptiness...
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 6:45 PM UTC
to feel is to
be human
to be human
is to live
and to live
is to go through life
its challenges
the ups and downs
the silhoutte
of a roller coaster
which either
makes you fret or bet
yet i am
i am tired
exhausted
of it all
feeling aches
in my heart
from memories
of neglect
what a catatonic
person i am
to even still feel
such an outburst
all at once
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 8:27 AM UTC
I can still see you in the dark
and as I trace your silhoutte on my wall,
you juggle your last piece of
cigarette between your fingers--
disregarding the heat.
I can still feel you in the wind
with your scent that draws
all the girls in town to you
or even when you smell like alcohol
and fall from your seat.
I can still write down your name
when I thought my pens
grew tired of bleeding for you
and now my blank sheets will be your tomb--
keep them marking on repeat.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
i saw a Silhouette as clear as can be
a figure of an angel there in front of me
the shadow of her wings reflecting in the night
an halo round her head shining very bright
whispering my name as she hovered over head
calling out to me as i lay in my bed
i felt very safe and my heart it filled with love
the silhouette i saw was sent from up above
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 1:16 PM UTC
You gave me a shread
of love and affection
and I fell over melting.
I'm not used to accepting...
love, or giving it
feels like a simulation
I must get through
I must finish quick!
The sky is hazy
the mountains painted blue
am I truly me
are you truly you?
And I find myself
starting over again
on my way to an island
I've never been.
And i find myself
scarred and wild
a shame to know
the doubts I held.
I never thought
I would lie to my self
I never thought i'd
sideline myself
The clouds blend into
the mountains now
a foggy sunset
at my back.
I'm wondering when
the horizon will end
When it will fail
to illuminate.
When my silhoutte
will shivver and quake
the cool breeze
from the mediterranean
drying my sweat
Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 3:09 PM UTC
I never proposed myself to be someone else and
The conception of being the best.
Perpending myself "why Not me"
There's an answer. I know. Don't speak words about it.
I don't have any words from you
You can't sing a song for me.
You'll never think of it.
You can't write things about me.
You'll never think of it.
I hate the way your words keep me safe
And the sight of me as nonentity
Leaving me cold and floating dead in the sea
Frantic.
I don't want you to open your eyes seeing me so worried
Angst.
Morbid, that's morbid.
Why the "other" is always better
Your eyes never landed on mine.
My eyes, my eyes that bursting on love and desire.
This ain't just love
This ain't just jealousy
This is something
This is something you need to see
My heart speaks the language of love
That will never be heard
The feelings,
My feelings, it's weary.
Flying in the surface of fire
Soon it will be burned, that'll the ashes mix in the air.
And there's nothing.
Nothing. I hope you won't regret the things you barely knew. Just lie to yourself I don't want you to feel hurt or bad. That's all I can give to you, My love.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
How long can
you go without the
need to take away
something from
an experience?
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 1:01 AM UTC
le femme
noir
dreary nights
away
from
me
boudoir
silhoutte
black
man
of mystic
down
at the track
lures me
to his
dungeon of black
his heart
beats null
mind is dull
sings me to lull
while he
plants
seeds of
poison
in my soul
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
Poem #1
It really hurts to see that I’m not important to you anymore
That I am just became part of your past
That you’re trying to forget what had just happened between us
That you treat everything a mistakes
It really hurts to see you happy with someone else
And treating me nothing just like a silhoutte behind
I dont know what had just happened
I cant see the old you anymore
I cant see any glimpse in your eyes when youre looking at me
I missed the old you
I missed everything about you
I missed everything that makes us connected together
What happened to you?
Why suddenly changed?
Why are you hurting me like this?
I want to hurt you too and I really hate you.
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 10:23 AM UTC
the haunting"
standing out here
in this silent night
a glare of the star gleams
to my silhoutte
like magnetic sparks on
an electric circuit
and i dream how we used to be
a sound of your voice
with that crooked smile
reappear in my taughts
like i'm being hypnotised
and i hear you calling my name
with gentle and sappy lips
i miss the aroma of your
pleasant fragrance
that smells like spring roses
of kabuye
i dream nestled in your hands
on that curly lines sliding me side to side
i miss your softest skin
with tiny pores
brilliant like wedding flowers
i hate the day you left,
a shadow that brought me sorrow
one of the things i regret
but it lavitates in my veins
you are my confinement
i want to break the rules
and beg for one more chance
there is no chance to stop
the immersing you,
because i've failed to defeat the haunting you.
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
I'm just a silhoutte.
A lifeless face that you'll soon forget.
My eyes are damp from the owrds you left.
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
Its a process slower than I'd like,
much like a young girl learning how to ride her very first bike.
Healing.
I can feel the hope wiggle in my toes,
though my head is still filled with a plague of darkness drowning in my woes.
Healing.
I can't see light at the end of the tunnel just yet,
but I can feel its warmth trying to find my hardened silhoutte,
It's called healing.
The process of new growth after something has been broken down,
much like my spirit beaten to the ground.
But I have to keep pushing,
living for a brighter day.
Hopefully all this will mean something,
even if it means nothing til the next life,
A place where my body and my mind aren't in constant strife.
I've began the healing process,
even if the finish line is still far away.
But all I can do is hope for a brighter day.
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 6:11 AM UTC
Opened my eyes,
look through the glass window from my bed,
See the sky at dawn,
white and dark blue blending as a background
for the still silhoutte tree
where hundreds of birds are singing
pulling me back to conciousness...
it's a beautiful morning.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC